


Slow Summer

by diamondgore



Category: Archie Comics, Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Archie Comics 1941
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Reggie Mantel is still alive, post-war reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26428969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diamondgore/pseuds/diamondgore
Summary: After the war, Reginald reinvents himself.
Relationships: Archie Andrews/Reggie Mantle
Kudos: 2





	Slow Summer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keno_jb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keno_jb/gifts).



> This is a birthday present for Keno's birthday! Though I really do like this idea so I might write more of it. ;)

Perhaps in both the metaphorical sense, and the legal sense Reginald Mantel had died, but his heart still beat in his chest.

He made it back to America, somehow, someway, through the generosity of others. Though he was surprised to see a grave with his name on it when he had visited his hometown of Riverdale. He was looking for his friends in the damp comfort of night, wondering if they had passed, but it seemed that they had moved on without him.

Despite knowing it was a possibility, there was still this heavy weight on his shoulders that he had to reinvent himself. His life would be okay, he could forge some papers, and ask for work under the table if he needed to, and that would be fine. He would not live in luxury, but he had a skill set that would keep a roof over his head if he needed to.

Reggie kicked the mud that covered his grave. Whoever he used to be lied six feet under with whoever’s poor body was buried there. He left the graveyard feeling emptier but somehow more whole than he used to be.

Building himself from the ground up would be easy, he would have to anyway.

During the war, his face and body were injured with fire and shrapnel when he had pushed his fellow soldiers out of the way. He had lost most of his eyebrow and eyelashes on the right side of his face, and his body was burned. His singed skin still hurt sometimes, but he was glad that got to keep his body parts. He still had the confidence he used to due to his beauty and charm, projected ten-folds in the faces of those who wince upon seeing him.

Any physical pain could be managed with morphine, and other opioids could help ease it. What he worried about more often was the night terrors from the past shellshock that he had experienced, usually swig of gin would help ease him back to sleep when they had gotten much too severe, but other times he would stay up until the sun would rise, staring with wide-open eyes at the ceiling. But he pulled through, he was strong enough to do it. He could not keep feeling pity for himself and expecting the world to be sorry for him.

Reginald made an honest man of himself after that night at the graveyard. He changed his name and got a job and a beautiful apartment. He worked as a call operator, where no one had to see him, and only hear his charismatic voice. His coworkers were friendly with him but he kept them at arm’s lengths, too afraid of ever getting close to anyone. He would hate for anyone to try to see past the façade of the man he had built.

But sometimes, and he did let that guard down. He sometimes wished for those days before the war, and before things had gotten so damn complicated. 

Those nights he would slip out of his apartment in his nicest clothes and mad his way to the speakeasy one town over. He hid himself beneath a rim of his hat and the popped collar of his overcoat as he took the last bus en route. He could easily go to a bar in Riverdale, but the people here weren’t his type. He always had the creeping realization that he was not into women, and perhaps into his those that were of his own sex, but he was held back by the expectations of his father. The speakeasy in the town over was filled with men, many of those who were trying to find a place to exist after the war.

He wasn’t a regular but there were a few people who he recognized and made small conversations with. Most of the soldiers here had been sent to Europe and Japan. They were more real heroes than he was. He had never made it past the point of a friend with most of them, but he did love their company. He greeted them as he put his jacket and hat away with the coat check.

Usually, he sat front and center at the bar, drinking whiskey, but as he approached the bartender tonight, the bartender placed a light purple Aviation in front of him. It was courtesy of a ginger-haired man that sat on the other end of the bar that had been admiring him since he stepped in. While Reginald wasn’t a huge fan of drinking gin, he still took the drink, he was only a sip or two in when the other man approached him.

While from across the bar he couldn’t make out much of his features, up close, even in the dim light he could see the light freckles across his face and neck. He had rounded features, making him soft despite his age and past occupation as a solider. He sat right next to him, and in his hand, he was holding a simple beer.

“You have an interesting taste in drinks,” Reginald said, taking another sip.

“You seem like the type who would drink something purple,” The man responded, and then extended his hand, “I’m Archibald, what is your name?”

“Why would I give my name to a stranger?” Reginald laughed and leaned onto the counter.

“We are no longer strangers,” Archibald said, “and I think you’d have a beautiful name.”

“Mhm,” Reginald finished his drink before placing the glass back on the counter and signaling the bartender, “Another one on Archibald’s tab.”

They both laughed, seemingly having similar senses of humor. It seemed like they knew each other from before, but Reginald couldn’t place where he knew him from. His memory was not the best and the darkness of the bar did not give him the best lighting to examine Archibald. The bartender put another drink on the counter in front of him.

“Since you have invested enough in me now, my name is Raymond,” Reginald responded taking his hand, which Archibald had held out for way too long.

Archibald smiled, “Nice to meet you. What brought you to this hole in the wall?”

“Same reason you’re here,” Reginald teased him. 

It didn’t take them long to realize that they hit it off. The combination of Archibald’s naiveties and the slightly mean-spirited nature of Reginald turned out to be in more synergy than either could have expected, and they spent most of the night at the corner of the bar talking, not quite drinking. As it turned out, Archibald had only recently come to terms with his sexuality and had annulled his marriage with his wife. He wasn’t looking for another lover, just more people like him.

Archibald was incredibly friendly and inviting. That by the time the final call had been announced Reginald ended up grabbing his jacket and leaving the speakeasy with him. He lived a short walk away. When they stepped into the dark night, lit only by the few stars in the sky, they could not be pried apart.

“Can I tell you something that might be odd?” Archibald had his hands in the pockets of his jeans as they walked down the street. His eyes were to the ground.

“You just bought me four drinks on your dime, I think I could handle something odd.”

“You remind me of a man that saved me in the war. When I saw you, I thought you might be him,” Archibald confessed with a long sigh, “Is that weird?” 

Reginald shook his head, “No. I always feel like I’m seeing ghosts after the war. I think it is just part of the experience.”

“Good to hear,” Archibald said. “I’m just always looking out for him, hoping he’d come back y’ know?”

“Maybe it’s better to let it go?” Reginald suggested as they approached the doorstep to Archibald’s building. “Things like that are better in the past.”

Archibald shook his hand and then opened the door. “You’re probably right. Most people’ve moved on except for me. Do you want to come inside?”

“I live over in Riverdale, I was hoping you’d invite me inside. No way in hell I could make that hike back at night.”

“Great, I can show you my record selection then.” Archibald beamed before letting Reginald in.

Reginald smiled, “I can’t wait to hear it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr [@diamongore](https://diamondgore.tumblr.com), and on twitter [@goremeat! ](https://twitter.com/goremeat)


End file.
